A Trip Into My Letters
by Sylvia-Ann
Summary: When you cannot decide whether or not there is such a thing as insanity.


Zane belongs to his respective owner(s). Everything else is mine.

* * *

_"One day, I believe that, our overwhelming feelings will coincide with one another and enable us to prosper."_

"_May I lay here with you? Just so I know you are safe."_

_"Come to me when you feel as if the world is against you because I assure you, it will have to be against me too."_

_"I applaud you for your magnificence. You are truly beautiful."_

_"Hit me, curse me to hell all you want, but I will always love you."_

Zane was a poet at heart. A sensitive romantic, genius who has been through the dirt and scruff of the pain that we appellate as love, a reason for our species to indulge in one another and suffer mindlessly without depicting ourselves as...weird.

Well, that's what I believe. I mean, I put him through enough trouble to make him believe he's been through it all.

He once said to me, "If I'm with you, I have everything I will ever need for the rest of my existence."

It was heart-warming, yes. It was boldly romantic and, no doubt, alluring. His deep voice would riot from his muscular chest, ricocheting off his plump cherry lips, his deep sapphire eyes twinkling with love as he held my frame with the utmost care.

Zane was any girl's dream guy. I had him and I was happy with that.

But it didn't make me melt. His sudden phrases of French liquor dripping from the creases of his mouth into mine didn't make my knees buckle. My stomach didn't fly from its place when he tells me his underlining thoughts of beauty and how I seemed to conveniently posses all those traits as his finger caressed the outside of my thigh, not with seduction, but pure, genuine, adoration.

I'm not insensitive. I promise. I just have preferences.

Black beauty, is what I'm called. The dark sheet of the night sky matched with the creases of my personality, my feelings and thoughts a mystery even when I express it. I talk in a foreign language, my words understood but the meanings completely lost. I shut down when attacked, and brood when asked about it. My feelings were bottled up since the minute I left my mother's womb and only I choose to let its contents spill through letters and symbols. Not even my mind can decipher it until my hand translates it.

Zane says he enjoys this challenge I seem to give. I've been looking for someone that did. It relieves me that someone had the audacity to stick by and attempt to decipher my foreign language rather than have me translate it. That made me want to do it for him. It's genuine.

I enjoy his frustration. I enjoy it, because I know it's genuine.

Somewhere inside me knows that his love for me is pure and unadulterated. He's shown me in the most mind-blowing ways and I know. I know. I just can't come to terms with it. I'm in-denial. Through endless roads of hurt and psychological mutilation, I have built up walls that choose to only let in and translate anger because anger, irritation, hate, whatever you want to call it, is genuine in all forms.

You can't trick someone when they know what's true.

And I have been tricked too many times. Too many times that I do question my own sanity, self-worth, value, decisions, paths, emotions, and placement in this world. I'm still confused.

But that's why I'm here.

I stand in front of this rushing river, beautiful crystalline molecules of water sparkling innocence from the gleaming sunlight. It's so beautiful. It's the exact place where Zane comes to meditate while I stay above the water and patiently and whole heartedly wait for his session to end. Sometimes, if I'm feeling devious, I'll jump into the water and swim to where I see him. No matter how quiet I make myself, he always seems to know I'm around him. Before I get a chance to touch his shoulder, he'll lightly grab my cheeks and place a kiss on my lips. To make it even more cute, I'm always upside down, my hair freely floating about my head. I still wonder to this day how he's able to fill my lungs with air and still be passionate about it.

I still wonder what he'll think of this place once he knows this is where I plan to die.

We had a big fight. This was our first major one, actually. Being with someone so understandable and sensitive as Zane, you don't get too many of those. I kind of forget what it was about, but I took my chance.

I bolted out, my brows furrowing in malicious anger. But while I continued to walk, I reflected back on Zane, my chain. His eyes were electrified, almost glowing with uncontainable frustration, something I've only seen when he was in battle with the other ninjas. He was yelling, definitely. I've never heard him yell like that before.

Now that shook my core.

That raw emotion was honest.

I need to take it a step further.

Attaching the thick rope to my wrist, tightening to the point where I felt as if my circulation was cut off. The big rock I managed to find was in front of me, ready for me to push into the river.

Zane's a worrier. My baby is probably worried sick. I haven't answered the 36th call. No matter how angry, he followed me. I know he did. I needed to act fast. But I needed to do this at the right moment. The full effect wouldn't be delivered if I didn't do this right. Straightening out the white dress that covered my body, the wind blew through it.

Any minute now.

I heard a branch snap.

Waiting no longer, I pushed the Boulder into the water, letting my arm pull me into the deep river.

Water made contact with my fingers, then my shoulder, then my face, and before I knew it, I was submerged into this blue abyss. I closed my eyes, the rock hit the ground, and I waited. There were two things I could be waiting for, but I decided that that choice wouldn't be left up to me. The last choice I deserved was pushing that boulder.

I floated in silence. My lungs burned. I waited. I pondered on what I felt and found my mind still could not decipher it.

So, I waited.

Someone grabbed my wrist tightly.

By this time, darkness had drawn itself on the corners of my vision, screaming for me to relent. My lungs were filled with fire but I floated in silence and watched as my husband took his shrunken and cut the rope. His figure was blurry but I felt his fingers dig into my waist and hips as his legs kicked up to the surface.

We broke through the surface, my mouth opening wide as I took one big gulp of air.

He dragged me to the side and heaved me up onto dry land. Immediately, Zane fiercely grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his livid and terrified orbs. Lightening and thunder terrorised his eyes, electrifying those blue diamonds of his.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

I've never heard him scream that before.

"Do not ever try anything like that while I'm alive, do you understand me!? What were you set to accomplish!? Suicide will do nothing!? What am I supposed to do without you!?" He was panting at this time. His jaw shook with pellucid rage and he was horrified.

I bowed my head so he would not see the lazy smile that stretched upon my lips. I wanted to tell him not to worry. That this was all a test. That this was just a product of my mind trying to figure out my foreign language. But instead, a sob ripped through my throat because I was assured.

He did love me.

"You are impossible," he kept muttering, his voice quivering.

His strong arms tightly embraced my trembling frame, his fingers running through the crooks and curves of my body to make sure I was there. He'd kiss my shoulders, my neck, his raw lips pecking my lips, ears, eyes, and cheeks. The white dress I was wearing. clung to my body's stature. It was probably see through, but whatever.

The test was a success.

I liked it when he called me impossible like that, because I was. I still can't figure out myself even.

I don't think I'm supposed to.

* * *

**A/N: I was brooding. **


End file.
